He looked at her, and he remembered
by LethargicNostalgics
Summary: A brief glimpse into Guts' mind as he finds himself reflecting on the tragic events of his life, the loss of his comrades, the ruining of his lover and the brutal betrayal of his once friend. Takes place around the events of the Falcon of the Millennium Empire Arc.


**He looked at her, and he remembered.**

As he sat there in front of the brightly burning bonfire, awake and alert- waiting for the nightly terrors to come for him as they do each night- he looked at her sleeping figure. She was curled up, resting peacefully. Her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, drool coming out the corner of her mouth. She looked so innocent. So content. So unfazed by reality. 

It was only at night time when she was sleeping, that he could allow himself to get closer to her- to take in her features. To take a close look at her innocent face, her long lashes that gently grazed her cheeks, her full, plump lips, and her smooth, bronze skin. To notice how her dark, unruly hair has now grown past her shoulders. It was only at that time she was calm in his presence. 

He looked at her, and he remembered the first time he regained consciousness after the events of that wretched, gruesome night. He looked at her, and he remembered the first time she recoiled at his touch with a hiss- the look in her eyes that of a feral animal. He looked at her and he remembered the hurt, the pain of the flooding memories, the betrayal, the loss, the helplessness and the pain of rejection. He couldn't fault her for her revulsion though, how could he? After all when he looked at her, he remembered a little child- a small boy, petrified and defenceless, touched and abused by disgusting, filthy hands. Small, fragile form crushed beneath the weight of that putrid body as his innocence was so vulgarly ripped away from him. He looked at her and he remembered a young man in his teens so solitary, so full of mistrust, so abused, yet stubborn to keep living. A teenager so full of anger and Hatred for touch. How he _despised_ being touched. It wasn't until he met _them_ that his life began to change and he slowly begun to find himself. 

He looked at her, and he remembered the band of the hawk. He remembered their many battles and their victories. He remembered Gaston, his loyal soldier the best of his men. He remembered Corkus, that old geezer- he'd always condemn him whenever given a chance. He didn't mind though, for he respected him even if they didn't see eye to eye. He remembered Pippin, a man of brute strength and few words - a great comrade. He remembered Juneau, his good friend who- unlike himself- always knew the right thing to say. He looked at her, and he remembered a fierce, strong woman. An unbroken commander, a warrior, a stubborn bitch, a beautiful girl, a lover. He remembered _him_ , the white hawk, the leader, the utopian. The one he wanted to see him as an equal. His comrade, his friend, a traitor. 

He looked at her, and he remembered the betrayal, the screams, the bloodshed, the horror, the slaughter, the gore, the abuse and the agony he felt and witnessed that night. He looked at her and he remembered the blood- curdling cries of his tormented comrades as they were mauled and feasted on by endless hideous, grisly beasts and savage, blood thirsty demons. He remembered their terror as they scattered around in panic, like ants seeking escape- reduced to mere sacrifices. He looked at her and he remembered how her cheeks flushed red with shame and humiliation at her helplessness, her assault. He remembered her pain-stricken, tearful face as she begged him not to watch when that thing ravaged her body. 

It. Him. Femto. No, _**Griffith**_. 

She stirred gently in her peaceful sleep, snapping him out of his thoughts. He suddenly became aware of how tightly his jaw has clenched and how his vision blurred with the force of his growing rage. Letting out a deep sigh he focused his remaining eye on her once more, he looked at her and now he saw an empty shell, a fragile, broken fragment of what once was, a shadow of herself from a time long gone, with no memory of the past. He looked at her and he wondered, does _she_ wish to remember? 

A sudden burning sensation on his neck alerted him as fresh, bright blood begun to trickle from his brand. A wicked grin slowly formed on his face as he reached for his sword. 

_And so they come._

 ** _-End-_**

 _I'm new to this website so I really hope all editing saved properly and the text won't end up all joined up together...Anyway!_

 _This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so it is very amateur and unpolished, might read a little flatly in places- please be gentle! When writing this fic I imagined the events taking place around the beginning of the Falcon of the Millennium Empire Arc. Between chapter Winter Journey and Wilderness Reunion. I wanted to focus solely on Guts' memories and feelings that revolve around them rather than going into explicit detail of the plot or events from the manga. Initially I wanted to give it a more poem-like feel, but it evolved into this short story. I hope you enjoyed! Please R &R, all constructive criticism is welcome._

 _-M._


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